


Body Pillow 3 (The One That Doesn't Actually Involve A Body Pillow)

by sciderman



Series: The Body Pillow Series [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/pseuds/sciderman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker finally has some good luck. (Follow-up to the Body Pillow series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Pillow 3 (The One That Doesn't Actually Involve A Body Pillow)

**Author's Note:**

> Boy! You guys just don't quit! I've been hassled on every facet of social media to do a part 3 to this series, even though I really, _really_ had no plans at all to do so. A Body Pillow fic with no Body Pillows? Absurd!  
>  I hope it's everything you guys wanted.

Hey, I'm Peter Parker. Known to many as the resident of Flat 62.

My neighbour, resident of Flat 63, I've recently found out, is known to many as Wade Wilson.

 _What a coincidence,_ you're thinking. _They've both got alliterative initials._ Well, the uncanny coincidences don't end there, pal, because Wade Wilson is also one of the few folks in New York that share my usual passion for red spandex.

Now, I really _wish_ I had known that sooner. It would've saved me finding out whilst I had a body pillow tucked under my arm, and nervous sweat dripping down my nose. But, information like that is always withheld from me until the worst possible moment.

Mind you, the aftermath resulted in either the best or worst thing to happen to me since that spider at oscorp decided “Hey, I'm gonna go out for a walk today.”

That is, Mr Friendly Neighbour and I have a thing. The specifics, I can't say, but whatever it is, it involves plenty of warm glances whenever we pass each other in the corridor; a few boxes of donuts shared on a Saturday morning; and one or two heated kisses shared in the elevator after a rough day. Nothing big, really, but it feels like everything in the world to me, right now.

Whatever this is, I think I _needed_ it.

Honestly, I’m constantly surprised every time I see Wade around. In all my years of knowing Deadpool, I’d have never assumed he were such a domestic type. But, more often than not, he’s in his apartment. I walk past constantly, to tune into the constant babble of nonsense that spills through the walls. How did I not notice that delightful ambience sooner? Most of the time, I wonder if he’s talking to anyone in particular. A lot of the time, I could be convinced he is, but there’s never any response to his monologuing.

I guess Wade’s just Wade, he doesn’t need to look for an excuse to run his mouth.

Spidey's caught up with Deadpool a couple of times, as of recent, but he's been harder to come by. I don’t know if I’m glad or concerned about that, but I’m trying not to rush to any crazy conclusions, considering those are always what get me into trouble. Those few conversations Spider-man _has_ had with Deadpool, though, have all revolved around this “cute neighbour, who’s a total _nut_ about Deadpool, and we’re totally made for each other.”

“Sorry things aren’t going to work out between you and I, Spidey. I think I’ve found _the one_.”

I choke, flushing dark red, praising _God_ that I’m wearing a mask.

“Th-that’s great, Wade. Treat him right.”

“I plan to–– Hey! Wait. How did you know it was a––”

I jumped off the building at that point, and swung away as fast as I could.

So, it’s fair to assume the little gestures we’ve been exchanging are all building up to something bigger. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I don’t know if I’m ready to admit to myself that I might be ready for that.

I’m so not ready for that. The thought keeps me up at night. The thought of Wade keeps me up at night. In more ways than one. He consumes all my thoughts. My pyjama bottoms wear and tear worse than my Spidey-suit after battle, I think about him so much.

So maybe I’ve got the hots for the guy. I’ve got him plastered on a body pillow, for crying out loud. There’s only so long I can keep denying it.

One day, Wade will have to find out the truth.

I didn’t buy that body pillow for the orphans.

I bought it for my own, selfish interests.

...He’ll be so _disappointed_ in me.

Hell, I’m disappointed in myself, for letting it get this bad. But my life is wholly comprised of bad decisions, and I’ve learnt to roll with the punches.

And on the topic of punches:

_Knock knock._

A Saturday morning rap on the door, and I’m thrilled. I scramble to the door fast, a hand running through my hair as my stomach twists with that familiar feeling of excitement I’ve started feeling every time I reach for the door handle.

I tugged the stiff door open, the sound of the chain heard rattling as it’s scraped behind the door, because I haven’t fixed it yet. Too distracted, and too giddy to ever want another obstacle to make opening the door any more difficult.

My eyes fell on… A mailman.

I let free the breath I was holding, my stomach sinking slightly.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Says here, if there’s no answer at 63, I leave it with the next nearest resident.”

I nab the parcel, and slam the door.

I could hear the mailman’s small mutter of “ _jeesh_ ” slip past it.

At least, when Wade and I live together, all this ludicrous messing about with postage will stop, I think as I heave a sigh, leaning against the wall. Then I freeze, eyes widening as I realise what I was just thinking.

When we _live together?_ Am I joking? Oh, yes, and we’ll have a big white wedding, and three children, and live happily ever after. Christ, Parker. Get a _grip_. Are you _twelve_?

“God, I've got it _bad_ ,” I mumble, burying a hand in my hair and tugging at it, letting out a frustrated whine. My fixation on Wade is getting more and more absurd. Someone please stop me.

I turn my attention to the parcel I’m holding. It’s small enough for me to easily wrap one hand around it. Roughly, say, 8 inches long, and a little wider at one end.

I think over it for a little while. Slow, like the image isn’t complete in my head. As I walk in through to the living room, I toss it between my hands. It was when I subconsciously started shaking it in a jerking motion that I realised.

I tossed it on the ground, with a shrill exclamation of _Jesus!_

_Is that?_

God, it better _not_ be.

Aren’t they meant to be _discreetly_ packaged?

I stumble backwards, as if the foreign package were a threat in my home. My good clean _God-fearing_ home. I press back against the wall, staring at it with fearful eyes.

_Why does this keep happening?_

I wonder if Wade’ll be embarrassed that it got delivered to me. I would be _mortified_. Wade’s already seen me mortified. I’m probably what classes as mortified right now.  But Wade seems much more relaxed about this kind of thing.

...I think I _like_ that.

 _Knock knock,_ and there’s the door again.

Wade, _god_ , that better be him. If that’s another mailman with another unusually shaped package, I’m moving out of this godforsaken building, while I still have some sanity left.

The door shrieks open, and yes! My knight with unusual online purchases is here to rescue me. I’m met with toothy grin spread on scarred lips, Mr Friendly Neighbour beaming down on me, like a welcome spill of sunshine. As readable as his face was, mine might be equally so, because any time I see him now, I feel invisible strings tugging my lips into a smile.

I open my mouth to greet him, but he quickly ducks down to seal it with his, stealing the air right out of my lungs. A warm hand rests on my back as I fall right into the kiss, my arms hooking around his shoulders totally and completely without my permission. We stumble back into my apartment, Wade kicking the door shut behind us.

See, stuff like _this_ is why I feel so confused all the time. What kind of asshole thinks that steamy make-outs are appropriate for early mornings? Wade does, apparently, and now suddenly it's become my favourite thing in the world.

After satisfied hums that I struggled to silence, and an indignantly clingy embrace, our mouths parted, if just for Wade to flash that blindingly bright smile of his.

“Good Morning.”

“...G’Morn’...” I mumble, a little breathlessly. And you know what? Suddenly I've forgotten entirely what I was about to say.

“So, I've got some things I want to say.” Mr Friendly Neighbour spoke, clearing his throat, and taking in a deep breath.

Good thing _he_ gets to remember what _he_ wanted to say.

“We've been spending some really great time together, and I really feel like… like Leo Dicaprio felt in that movie, you know the one.”

I looked at him, responseless.

“The, uh, the one with the girl.” He added, as though that helped.

There were three films that sprung to mind, and Leo managed to kick the bucket in all three.

I nodded, mumbling dumbly: “You make me feel like Leo Dicaprio too.”

Which means we're both _doomed_.

“Like, I want us to make love in a stranger's car, and fog up all the glass with the steamy humidity of our passion”, he said, weaving his fingers in with mine, as though he were spouting the most romantic string of words there had ever been. Well, he had me convinced.

“Ohh, so it is the _Titanic_. That was my first guess.” I said, distractedly. Trying my best, mind you, to ignore the fact that my face was heating up like water rising to a boil.

“So I've put crazy amount of thought into it, and I've decided, I want to take our relationship to the next level.”

“The, uh, next level? What level were we on? Is the next level the _making love in a stranger’s car_ level? If so, I think we might be skipping a few here.”

Wade snickered, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I’m surprised it didn’t scorch him, my cheeks are set ablaze at this point. I kept rambling. Something I tend to do, in these situations.

“Did you just use the word _relationship_? You haven't even asked me out on a _date_ yet.”

“I did so. First time we met. Coffee or breakfast.”

“That doesn't count.”

“Just because you didn't say yes, doesn't mean it didn't count. I did _my_ part, you just scrimped on your end of the deal, asshole.”

“Are you asking me out on a date now?”

“Depends if I'm gonna actually get an answer this time.”

“Not a chance.”

Wade gasped dramatically, as though he were wounded.

“Well then. I'm leaving. _Hurumph_!” He turned with a huff.

“What about your package?” I spoke up, ever so suddenly remembering the mystery parcel still discarded on the floor, glaring at me angrily; the most ridiculous reminder.

“You've certainly expressed you reserve no interest in any package of mine.”

“ _Wade_. Your package.” I said louder, moving my head pointedly at the discarded, phallus-shaped parcel on the ground.

“Oh.” Wade looked blankly at it. I stared blankly at him.

 _“...Oh.”_ He said again, with an embarrassed awareness. “You weren't supposed to see that.”

“Welcome to _my_ world.”

He rushed down to pick it up, shoving it fast in his back pocket. It didn’t fit very well, but it kept out of sight, which I imagine was Wade’s aim.

“Look, I uh–– I’d prefer if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” He said, lowly, wringing the back of his neck, in what I can only assume to be maddening embarrassment.

“It's not for me, it's for a friend.”

“Uh huh.”

 _My_ how the turn-tables--

“I'm like, mega serious, Pete. Don't tell anyone.”

“Don't worry about it, man. Hey, it makes us even, right?” I said with a snort, reveling in having this to hold over Wade's head.

“Psh, yeah, well you can't get evicted over a _body pillow.”_

I paused. Wade was being serious.

“Oh my god, what? _Evicted_? What is _in_ that package?” I panicked, turning a glance to the parcel protruding from Wade's jeans.

Did I help Wade smuggle weapons in here? Drugs? Oh, god, and here I was thinking it was a dick in a box. Oh, god, what if it is? An actual one, that was once attached to a human?  

Okay, we're getting a little carried away here. That idea's too absurd, even for Wade.

_Or is it?_

I coil up tight against the wall, in the most ridiculous fit of panic that's ever taken over me. Too occupied by once again coming to irrational conclusions to notice Wade staring at me like I was putting on the most entertaining show he's ever seen.

“Are you going to put me out of my misery by telling me _what it is?”_

He flashed an amused grin.

“Just curious, what is it that you _think_ that it is?”

“I thought it was a _dildo_ , you goof!” I push at him, horribly flustered. “And now you've done all this talk about getting evicted, and I'm starting to think it's some kind of nuclear warhead.”

He removed it from his back pocket, giving it a glance over.

“Psh, oh _yeah_ , I see it.” He said with a chortle. “Your mind goes to dark and _unusual_ places, baby boy. Guess we're more alike than I thought.” He gave the parcel a toss in the air, then caught it fast, with a swing of his arm.

“It’s a _dog toy.”_

“You have a _dog?!”_

 _“Sssh!!”_ Wade was quick to shove his hand over my mouth, eyes darting to the door as though anyone could be listening from behind it. His hands were warm, calloused, and smelt faintly of tortilla chips. “This building runs on a three-strike system, you know that. Well me? I’ve already had my three strikes. Can you believe keeping sniper rifles is against our housing policy? It’s ridiculous. Anyway, I had to bribe the landlords to let me stay. This is my last shot. And you know the very first rule on this building’s policy?”

 _“Mo pepffs”_ was my muffled response.

“On the nose, sweetheart.” He frowned, finally withdrawing his hand from my face, turning away. He held his hands to his heart, “I know I shouldn’t keep her–– I know I should be a law abiding citizen for once in my reckless, very _illegal_ life–– but she is so _cute_ , just following me home one day, and I couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes–– So I smuggled her in. Look at me! Even when I’ve quit mercenary work, I’m still engaging in softcore criminal activity. Spidey would be so _disappointed_.”

Wade sometimes speaks so fast, I can hardly keep up. Sometimes it’s a string of words that don’t make any sort of cohesive sense, and suddenly there’s one key piece of information Wade somehow whizzes past like it’s negligible nonsense.

“Back up a little bit. You said you _quit_ mercenary work?”

“Yeah. That’s not what we’re talking about though. Pay attention.”

I heaved a sigh.

“Look, if anybody finds out about Rex, I’ll be out on my ass, I know it. So I’m counting on you to keep it on the down-low.”

“ _Rex_.”

“Yes.”

“...I don’t know, I was expecting something a bit more creative than that.”

“It _suits_ her!” Wade said defensively, “You should meet her”, then he paused. Then repeated, eyes wide and aglow with excitement, “You should meet her!”

He gripped both of my hands, and span me, my having no choice but to fall limply back into his arms, like the wet blanket I am.

“Right now?” I spoke, my face unintentionally burrowing into Wade’s chest, silently hoping it won’t make any plans to leave Wade’s chest any time soon.

“Right now!” He rushed through to the corridor, dragging me along by my arm just like I were a dog. We pushed straight through to his apartment, and I stopped not very far past the doorway, to take it in, this being the first time I’ve seen the place Wade hung his hat.

It was humble. A little shabby. Same as my apartment, really. Wade’s place probably gets the better view, though. He probably gets the nicest viewpoint of the setting sun over the New York skyline through his bedroom window. What do I get? Flimsy, paper-thin blinds that offer no aid against the miserable white streaks of dawn.

I walk forward, and stumble on a box. The body pillow box, oh god, _not_ that god forsaken box again. Sitting on the box, is who I assume to be the illegal tenant.

“Meow,” she says to me.

“Wade.” I call to my host, in as neutral a tone as I can afford. Somehow, after all I’ve been through in these hectic few weeks spent with my neighbour, something like this does nothing to surprise me.

“Wade, this is a cat.”

 _“Sshh!”_ Wade silences me, for what must be the third time today, this time with a finger to my lip. “What are you _doing_? Are you in the professional business of _shattering dreams?”_ Wade turns to face the tabby, kneeling to pet the back of her head affectionately, as though he were making amends for my apparent rudeness. “Don’t listen to him, honey. Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl.” He picked her up, nuzzling his chin on the top of her head. 

I watch the display with distant awe. _Cute_ , but entirely confusing. I consider turning on heel right that second, and walking straight back to my apartment, dismissing the crazy.

Deflating with a sigh, I looked the cat–– uh, dog–– in the eye.

“Sorry for mislabeling you, Rex.”

“Meow”.

My attention turned to Wade, who looked up at me approvingly. He spoke up again. 

"Okay, so as I was saying. _Next Level..._ " 

"Could you please put Rex _down?_ You look like a super villain." 

Wade snorted, setting the pet down. She scampered away fast. I imagine she had no interest in what was about to be said. 

"I think it's high time I told you _I love you."_

"I don't think that's appropriate, considering you've only known me for four weeks." 

"And _yet,_ I feel like I've known you for _years..._ " Wade mumbled, dreamily. Unfortunately, he's getting _me_ confused with _Spider-man._

_I get that a lot._

 "You know what _would_ be appropriate?" I say, softly. 

"What?" 

"Asking me if I'm free tomorrow night." 

He grinned, taking a moment of pause before he spoke. 

 _"Okay_ , are you fre––" " _Yes_." 

"It's a date." 


End file.
